Possibilities

If i do leave, and if i were to think about what i'd want to do afterwards without limitations...

I'd like to go to Tromsø and learn norwegian there, for a year, in order to be able to finally integrate myself in this society. After that i might go to Bergen and get some kind of job -i don't care what- while studying physics & chemistry. Then perhaps, after two years, i could go to university and study medicine in there. With luck, by the time i hit 40, i could be a medical doctor and then decide what to do with that. Aerospatial medicine doesn't sound like a bad idea... I would also like to adopt a kid, become a father... I don't know if i'm made for romantic life, so i may never have a partner, but i know i can be a good father.

Another possibility is to continue in education... Wait for a few years and go work at the college in Devin, as a teacher there. Xaviera will retire in a few years and i think i'd like to teach in that place. But somehow that doesn't sound that attractive anymore.

Activism and grassroots movements are another area that does indeed sound very interesting. I see a need for that, in Argentina... But i don't know if i could live there.

Above all, i want my life to have meaning for others, be it my family or a community i may belong to. It's surprising, but never before had i felt so keenly, so certainly, this reality: that a life is meaningless unless you can see it its context, where it's lived: among other lives.

Evaluating

I haven't written here in a while. Guess haven't had much to say... Which says a lot about my everyday life, i suppose. I'm finding it harder and harder to do this job well. I used to believe that, in spite of all the imperfections of the system, the "education" we give these kids was largely positive, but now that conviction is crumbling, bit by bit. That in itself can't be good for the students: a teacher who doesn't believe in what he's doing can't be a good teacher.

I've had my misgivings about the academic side of the program (the international baccalaureate) for a while now. Even though it does attempt to instill critical thinking, it does so in a formulaic, limiting fashion; it presents certain modes and structures of expression as more adequate than others, and i believe that is precisely one of the problems with human relations: we are taught to think that someone's ideas are better than those of others because of their wrapper. And people who can't provide the right wrapper are seen as less valuable -at best- or outright inferior.

But now i've been losing faith about the validity of the rest of the program we provide. Us adults here cannot deal constructively with each other. Most everyone is entrenched in their own little position, and we judge and attack each other. We are not a good example for our students. There's no harmony.

I'm probably being too negative right now. I don't know, and i don't have the energy to lift myself from that at this moment. It's US who have to change. Or leave, as the case may be.

Our lady of the assassins

Just saw this movie. Waldemar asked me to buy it a few weeks ago, and finally yesterday it arrived. So i invited a few students to watch it with me tonight. It's a story of life in Medellín, Colombia. Very bleak reality. Most of all, what Waldemar said once the movie was over: "yes, that's what it's like where i live".

I have to get my ass off chairs...

It's official

I'm 31 years old.

In one and a half hours i discussed society and community and rights and legal systems and laws of behavior with Amel. Then i opened at random a poem book by Mario Benedetti, and he says that cumpleaños are not important, but cumpledías we should have and live. Cumplehoras and cumpleinstantes, i think, which is what i lived tonight. Maraca came as i was putting the book down and told me about a friend of hers threatening suicide. Then my mom called, and then a group of 25 latino students sang las mañanitas in front of my window... They threw snowballs at me, and i hugged them all and then they tried to put me in the shower. Then Harold came and tried to call his mom in Colombia, and we've been talking now about maturity and growing up and being yourself.

An now i'm calling my mom back again.

Happy Birthday to me!

So, i turn 31 tomorrow.

Until 3 or 4 years ago, or even more recently, i used to say i didn't feel any different from when i was 16 or 17.

I have mostly lost touch with that guy now, though. In some respects i'm glad of that: he was very insecure. He never spoke his mind, even though things appeared very clear to him at times.

That clarity is what i miss most of him. Now i say more of myself, but i feel like speaking itself is a lie.

Perhaps it is wise not to speak much, and the problem with him was that he was silent for the wrong reasons, meaning fear of what others would think of him. I must admit that, though to a lesser degree, i still feel that fear...

Confessions

Mariteria came back from Rotterdam today, and i'm supposed to have dinner with her in 20 minutes. I'm looking forward to seeing her again. I've missed her, even if it was just a week and when together disagree on many things (fortunately we're both very vocal about it; that saves our friendship, i think). Everybody gets on my nerves, sometimes, and i have to fight with myself to be in the company of other people. The only one that doesn't irritate me is Mishqi, but she's a cat, and though idiosyncratic and willfull, i know she takes me as i am. Only with Eddy did i ever have such a relationship, and only for a while.

Little poem for my bereaved blog

Just letting you know
that i haven't forgotten to blog,
blog.

Still watching with my little eye
but have lost some of my sight.
Am blind.

Or i feel nearly so
'cause i've hit a slump,
bob.

Julio's coming to visit!!!

Julio's girlfriend broke up with him and he's coming to visit! I'm definitely sorry that this has happened to him, but i'm very happy that he'll be spending a few days with me, too. He's been a very close friend since highschool, and though i did have a crush on him back then, now he's like a crazy younger brother to me...

To tell the truth, i don't know why i love him so much. In at least one way i can think of, we're very similar: we both stumble through life, and don't seem to be able to keep any romantic relationship for long. He's been seriously involved with two women who craved the love he didn't feel for them, until they finally left him... and crushed him in the process. Him or his ego? Whatever the case, it hits hard. The same happened to me with Dwayne, and i still can't tell whether i was really in love with him or whether i got obsessed with him when i saw he didn't love me. After all, i cheated on Dwayne repeatedly, at least at the beginning, in the same way that Julio cheated on his girlfriends.

Also, i don't know how much of an ethical person Julio is. I suppose cheating and lying to one's couple are not good signs, and that doesn't bode well for me, either. But well, i haven't had anyone to cheat on for over 4 years now. Blah.

Julio is also a lawyer, and i don't think he is the kind who asks himself any ethical questions before getting involved in a case. Still, i know he is loyal to his friends... Or hope he is.

Anyways, i suppose i love him for the history we share, because he was the first person i told about my sexuality, because he didn't recoil from me... At least not for long. I love his liveliness, too.

Electronic dictionaries

Once upon a time, a teeny weeny girl was using an electronic dictionary.

I could hear the beep beep of it from downstairs; she had to describe an image and was looking up the words she didn't know. I suppose she had forgotten this was not allowed and, unfortunately, since she was keeping the dictionary in her pocket by the time i entered the room, i wasn't able to say anything. I could see it bulging under the fabric, but since there was probably no bad intention, to ask her to turn her pockets out could have been extremely discorteous and interpreted as lack of trust in her, couldn't it?

Anyways, she wrote a description and read it verbatim. Dear me! I'd not noticed she was doing that! And, unfortunately for her, she had not heard me repeatedly saying in class that that is not allowed, either. So now it turns out i'll have to ask her to do her exam again, tomorrow. Poor thing!

I mean, it'll be another 40 minutes of my time, but how much worse it must be for her! I know how stressful these exams can be for students. I'll apologize to her for the inconvenience; i should have noticed she was reading the text she had written word for word, but was looking at the image myself. I must tell her i didn't realize it till later tonight, when i compared her notes with the recording and noticed they were identical.

Poor, poor baby!

More yaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!

Oral exams just began and i was already exhausted before they did; Martina tells me Antonio still hasn't returned the school key he shouldn't have (the guy lied to me about it); Pondo's lies about where he was when he missed classes still go unchallenged...

On the up side, i had wonderful classes today: great discussion with Lit. students, and the kids that are learning spanish really seem to be starting to speak, even those that had me scared before.

Also, it hailed today, and i had to shake my head when i went into my office this morning, so that little balls of ice flew in all directions. I never get to do this.

Still, my head is heavy and my eyelids want to crumble, disintegrate and leave no archaelogical trace. Got a meeting and more orals this afternoon, plus I've promised Mariteria to watch The Motorcycle Diaries tonight (which i really do want to do, but i'm oh-so-dead; i hope i don't fall asleep on her, again).

I miss Eddy. Gotta get in touch with him somehow.

Yaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!

Spoken exams, veiled hostility & discomfort from people about articles i wrote in school magazine, epistemology forms and grades to be handed in, Zulema's suspension/expulsion/?!?!?!?, Pondo's lies, intestinal upset (my intestines, but also among staff, students and staff and students), sicknesses of students, can't quit smoking, world literature essays, thinking of organizing a latino show and a teachers' show, class preparation and homework piling up, pending mail replies, book permits still not requested, argument with Amadeo about cleaning, watching out for people... And am sure i'm forgetting something, which upsets me even more.

Things that i love, things that i hate, things that i hlaotve and things that i lhoavte.

I heard this story when i was a kid; my dad or my uncle Orfeo used to tell it. It had happened to someone when they were kids, or when my grandfather was.

There was this boy that had been picking grapes with his father and other workers. This is very tiring work, so seeing a dog lieing around under the shade of a tree, the boy said: "Dogs have such a wonderful, easy life! I wish i were a dog!".

"Go ahead, then" said his father. "Go lie under the shade, too, if you want."

"For real?" asked the kid.

"Sure! Go ahead" answered the man.

So the boy did lie down and slept in the shade the whole morning. But when lunchtime came and the boy wanted to sit down and eat with the men, the father said, sure enough: "Shoo, dog! Go away!" and tossed him a bone.

So i suppose the moral of the story is that it's not so easy being a dog, either. Although probably a dog wouldn't mind eating bones, whereas the kid most certainly did.

How do you judge people?

If you're tempted to say you just don't, don't: you'd be kidding yourself (unless you've lived isolated your whole life and have never had any interaction, direct or indirect, with other beings; in that case, i might, perhaps, believe you).

Here is an example of how someone could judge others.

If you'd allowed someone use of your car, house or computer and, in your absence, that person had broken/lost or allowed to be broken/lost a possession of yours, that person would have two definite courses of action: to tell you what happened when you came back, or not to, in the hope you wouldn't notice or that, if you noticed later, enough time would have passed for you not to be able to point at him/her and demand an explanation.

In the first case, if the possession broken were a very important one to you, you might get angry at that person's carelessness and even tell him/her off for it. You might chide yourself for forgetting how people tend to be more careless instead of more careful with other people's property. You might decide to make sure that person is not left alone with your property again.

In the second case, and if you discovered the broken/missing object a week or two later, you'd feel the same as above, plus immediate despise for that person's lack of willingness to take responsibility for their own action. A few minutes, hours or days later, however, despise would be transformed into pity for this person and their view of the world.

You see, a person who doesn't take responsibility for their actions is unable to fully relate to others. They expect or believe perfection is possible in themselves and in others, and are thus constantly disappointed by both. We all come across disappointment at one time or another in our lives, but these people don't recover from it. They judge everyone, including themselves, inadecuate, and must thus put up appearances every minute of their lives. They feel alone and live in a world where appearance is more important than reality, with the consequence that they can never solve the real problems, neither with themselves, with others, or with their surroundings. This condition can lead to fatal consequences, sometimes not only to themselves, but also to their whole community.

The good news is, many times there's plenty of opportunity to face reality and minimize damage.

The bad news is, many times it's too late already, and damage is irreparable.

But that's precisely the point: it's always like that! If one is unable to deal with that reality... Well, we may be in trouble.

Avalon and Armandus

Avalon was a student of ours. This summer he went swimming with his friend Armandus to a mountain lake, and drowned. Armandus couldn't save him.

Six months have passed. Days are short now, gray.

I walk around campus and see a group of students passing by, and wonder if Avalon would be with them.

In my classroom there's no definite seat that would have been his, but he was always to my left. There's a blind spot there, imprecise. Perhaps i would have had to tell him off for missing more classes than was good for him. He would have been involved in too much, come to school with puffy eyes. Awake all night, he wouldn't brush his teeth and his breath would be strong. I'd have had a talk with him by now. Ponte las pilas, porque si no..., i'd have said.

Armandus i do see, from time to time, with his friends. He seems to be loved and appreciated by them. Silent and thoughtful, he is. Squirmy with his studies too, i get the feeling. Though he's not my student, i know he goes to school because he has to, but not much inspires him. HAS TO is the problem. He'll find what he likes when he doesn't HAVE TO, i hope.

I wish i could hug him and comfort him, tell him all it's ok, that i'm sorry this happened to him. That it was not his fault and that he's precious, that it would be terrible if he had been lost, too. That i would like for him to live his days as the delicate, beautiful gift they are.

Of course, i won't approach him. I don't know him at all, and teachers don't go around embracing students, particularly when they've never talked before. It's also unsightly for a man to let any other man try to give comfort. More than that, it's uncomfortable.

Moral authority

What a contradictory concept!

To expect someone to behave according to certain morals just because you somehow hold a certain authority is totally immoral! If people don't understand the reasoning behind the morals, their behavior is simply authomatic.

Moral authority lies in the agreement of all concerned by those moral rules to live by them. And even in that case, authority might become too smug, as it usually tends to do, unless the group continues to re-examine itself and the issues its morals are concerned with.

Untempered tempers

Another stiff, stuffed, staff meeting today, and sparks flew, again. Why can't we communicate?

I can't talk about others, but i'm always careful not too say too much or too little. Since i can't make up my mind about what would contribute to any of these conditions, i sometimes try not to say anything. Which means i most often err on the too-little side. But at other times i go for it, and then fear i've said to much, again.

Boris would say that i'm afraid of conflict. Amy would have said the same thing, back in MN. She would have added that, in her opinion, it was that fear which made me become passive-aggressive (which i was not!; when i knew her, Amy had ended all of her friendships because she thought her friends were passive aggressive. No wonder; she was prodding people all the time).

My answer would be that one must know which battles to fight, and how to say things. Not to sound dramatic, but i have other things going on in my life right now. Have a flu right now (yes ladies and gentlemen, that's what the cold turned into), and when i don't i have my students, my friends not to lose touch with, classes, the book, this screen, my social interactions (grueling experience much of the time), movies and books.

Now i've scared myself. It really doesn't sound like i'm fighting any battles. Well, i fought for years just to continue to stay alive (i'm in full-blown drama-queen land now, i know).

(Much beyond)

Homo solitarius

I suppose it is arrogant of me to label myself such. After all, no man is an island -- and no woman either, for that matter. I've no barnacles attached to my shins, nor am i all rocky and surrounded by water.

Nevertheless, I look at others and i find myself alone, more of a loner, though not lonely. Twinges of this adjective here and there, now and then, yes. But not much. Perhaps loneliness is there, but like a subterranean river (there's the water, after all!) of which i'm not aware most of the time.

Boh!

In any case, the homini solitarii are an abundant species, today.

Absences

I sent this letter to a student today. She said "ouch!", and i felt like a slave driver. Nobody's education should be driven by exams or attendance records, but unfortunately they are.

Hello, Loaira,

I don't know the exact circumstances of your absences, but of course, if you wanted me to know, I suppose you would somehow have informed me by now. So I'll simply proceed (I did meet you once, by chance, in the street, and you told me you'd been sick, but that was over two weeks ago).

Basically, I want to ask you if you're aware that you've missed all your Spanish classes this term (you said to me you'd come to the first, but I checked, and you hadn't). Indeed, I personally think you're mature enough to manage your own work, to decide what you want/need to learn and to catch up with missed classes/homework if you decide it is worth to do so.

Although you haven't told me so with words, your actions make it clear to me that you either think there's no worthwhile material that you need to receive from classes, or that you expect to put a lot of extra effort later to catch up. Even though you may be sick now, in over four weeks you haven't completed one single Spanish assignment. Your absences were very numerous last term, too.

As a teacher, I put much effort and feel a responsibility towards my students. I go out of my way to make myself available to those who show an interest to learn. But, as I have made it clear in class, learning a language requires constancy. If you deem class work dispensable, or if you don't invest the necessary effort, you free me of any responsibility towards you.

Please do or do not come to classes as you see fit, but if you still intend to take the Spanish ab initio exam, make sure that you comply with all IB requirements and do find out when you're scheduled to present your orals and exams. I'll try to help with anything you require of me outside the classroom if I have any free time available, but you know how hectic our days are here, right?

Likewise, I am totally unable to predict a grade for you this term, since you've missed already 25% of classes.

Kindly reply to let me know that you've received this message, Lo.

Marino

Cold turning into...

Cold is turning into flu, i suspect. Strong stomach and muscle aches, chills, stuffed nose, sore throat, headache... Full package! Hadn't had this bug in a while, and always forget how bad it is. Also, i think there's a bit of the hypochondriac in me: not only is it the physical disturbances that bother me, but the fear of getting worse or of it being something else. Yuk!

Speaking of people who're unwell, i called Luella at Mac this morning. She sounded her usual extra-cheerful self, which kind of worries me, as a few days ago she wrote telling of some panic attacks she's been having. Luella is an extremely high achiever, very outgoing and free and open minded... but paradoxically has a very strong need to be in control. Of course, there's probably more to it than that. I don't know her as well as i would like to; am not very good at reaching out to people i want to connect with -- my lack.

Cold

Have a horrible, horrible cold. I haven't felt this crappy in years. Funny thing is, a coupla weeks ago i was a little down, too -- not much, just some stomach upset; could have gone on teaching, but decided not too at the time. According to school law we have a day each year to take off if we simply feel the need to rest, and i did just that. But now, when i'm feeling so crap crap crappy, i feel i can't not show up. That probably means i'm not in such bad shape, after all.

Anyways, seems like half the student body is under the weather, too. Blah!

--------

...'Student body'. The one at this school has 200 heads, 400 arms and 400 legs. A monster no mythology has ever produced.

English IS a funny language!!!

Communion denied to gay catholics

Just take a look at this article...

http://www.sweenytod.com/rno/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=828